93This is a story I wrote a long time ago (like 2002, 2003?). To my current writer's mind, these characters feel like younger versions of themselves. Makes sense, I was younger then, too. The story is posted under my other name (MoS) up on the Wordpress site. Since I have trouble using the Wordpress site on my reading device of choice, I am going to assume you might as well. Hence I am reposting the story here, as I am working on the half-finished sequel and will be posting that as well. The problem is – this was written a long time ago, and there were a lot of things we did not know then. As far as the Rangeman "crew", we had Ranger, Tank, Bobby and Lester and I think glimpses of one or two others (Hector?). We had a small Rangeman office that we knew about. We did not know where Ranger actually lived. No Haywood, no Ella. We knew Ranger had a daughter who was 9 or 10, but did not know her name or anything about her mother. I might go as far as calling this an AU based on the series up to the end of Book 8, because it takes a sharp turn from where the books go. Only very light editing has been done (hey, I had betas then!) from the original.
Under Pressure, Chapter 1
Can't we give ourselves one more chance
Why can't we give love that one more chance
Why can't we give love
Cause love's such an old fashioned word
and love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure
Under pressure
Pressure
Under Pressure - Queen
So, it's official - Ranger is avoiding me. It had all started immediately after the Abruzzi thing, more than two months ago. I knew he was still in town and still doing some work for Vinnie, but I hadn't seen him in the office or anywhere else for that matter. It might have been amusing to see Trenton's best bad-ass bounty hunter hiding from me if it hadn't been so damn annoying and humiliating.
A week ago I left a message on his cell, asking for his help. Instead of calling me, within 5 minutes of my call he had called Connie and asked her what files I was working. Connie told him the truth - that I had no active files - and he hadn't even bothered to call me back. The implication being, of course, that if he thought I was in trouble he'd help, but if he thought it was purely social, he wasn't interested.
I needed to talk to him - about Abruzzi, about a lot of things - but I knew my chances of finding him if he didn't want to be found weren't good, so I decided that my best bet was to let him come to me. Figuratively speaking, of course. At first, Connie hadn't been willing to help at all. The words she used included "crossing Ranger" and "suicide", a combination that had made me wince and Connie's face pale as soon as she said it. Secrets weren't easy to keep in the Burg and the Abruzzi thing wasn't even close to a secret anymore. Actually, as things went, it wasn't even regarded as that big a deal by Burg standards. Abruzzi had not had many admirers. Talk had died down in less than a week. But it wasn't the talk I cared about, anyway.
Connie finally agreed to let me know the next time a big FTA file came through for Ranger. I could handle staking out my place of employment on my own.
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I sat on the fire escape of the building next door to Vinnie's, trying to stay huddled into the smallest, least noticeable ball possible. Connie had agreed to stay late, knowing that Ranger wouldn't come in while she was there, so I had been able to get here under cover of darkness. I managed to keep my eyes open until about 2:00 am by thinking about how cold it was and how much I needed to pee. I suspected that I would have a long wait, but I really hadn't planned on falling asleep. It was only the growling purr of the big BMW motor that woke me up, and I groggily watched Ranger get out of the car, scan the parking lot as though his back was twitching, and finally enter the office, bypassing the security codes.
When he walked back out of the office, carrying a stack of files, I was sitting on the hood of his BMW, my feet tucked up on the bumper, my elbows on my knees and my chin resting on my fists. His eyes ran over me, and I knew what he was seeing - I was sitting on his black car, dressed in black from head to foot, only my face visible from inside the hooded black sweatshirt.
He turned and reset the office alarm and walked over to me, face expressionless. His lips twitched slightly as he reached up and tugged the sweatshirt hood off of my head and my hair fell down around my face. I had noticed that he had a thing for my hair, and it didn't surprise me when he reached up to tuck it behind my ears. He tossed the stack of files on the hood of the BMW.
I took a deep breath. "We need to talk." He raised an eyebrow at me and stepped back, away from me, looking as cold and remote as I'd ever seen him. He hadn't said anything yet and he simply stood there, waiting me out. "I need to know what happened with Abruzzi."
"Why?"
"Because it's something I caused. Something I'm responsible for."
"He had several warnings, Babe - he chose to ignore them." Ranger's arm were folded across his chest and he stood in an aggressive stance, his feet planted shoulder-width apart. His eyes were dark and cold. "I don't make idle threats. Bad for business."
"So you killed Abruzzi for business reasons."
"I didn't say that. And, for the record, I didn't say I killed Abruzzi. Coroner ruled it suicide."
"But it wasn't. I know that. Joe knows that." At the mention of Morelli's name, Ranger's eyes seemed to get even colder.
"Morelli wanted it to go down this way as much as I did." I had suspected that the two of them had discussed it, and this was confirmation.
"Ranger, why did you do this for me?
"He was going to hurt you. He was going to escalate it – expand it." Ranger looked up, beyond me, for a moment, and then continued. "You get . . ." he hesitated, "under my skin." I looked at him blankly, trying to process that. "Not always in a good way, Babe." The faintest hint of a small, tight smile.
"What, like I'm an itch you want to scratch?" A look flashed across his face that I had only seen once before - that night in my bedroom. I hadn't known what it meant then and I didn't have any better idea now.
"That would probably be one way to put it."
I blew out a long breath and rubbed my forehead. "So why are you avoiding me?"
"Heard about Morelli."
"Do you care?" It still hurt to think about Joe, but I liked to think that that wound was starting to heal over. What Joe and I shared was the ability to have amazing sex, a long and familiar history and the ability to hurt each other deeply. Six weeks ago we had agreed that the first two just weren't worth the third anymore, but not without going one remarkable, final screaming round at Pino's, pretty much in full view of all of Trenton.
He made a small movement of his shoulders - the Ranger equivalent of a shrug. "Thought you were going to work on that relationship."
I snorted. "Huh, the word 'relationship' from Ricardo Carlos Manoso."
He spoke sharply. "That is why I've been avoiding you."
"Can't we just talk like normal people?"
"Why start now?" Great. Ranger humor. He looked at me a few minutes and I looked back steadily, trying to keep my temper under control. Finally, he looked away and said, "Rossini's, 8:00 tomorrow." It was almost phrased as a question and I chose to be generous.
"Tonight tomorrow or tomorrow night tomorrow?"
The slightest upward tug at the corner of his lips. "Tonight tomorrow. I'll pick you up."
Under Pressure, Chapter 2
At 7:00 pm the next day I sat on the end of my bed, staring into my open closet. I was wearing a towel and a frown. I needed three crucial pieces of information to get dressed, and I only had two. I knew where I was going tonight and I knew who I was going with, but I didn't know what kind of statement I wanted to make to him.
I had told Ranger a couple of months ago that I couldn't do his form of - of whatever it was called. Occasional one-night stand? He said he didn't do relationships. But we'd had a relationship before we had sex. Then we had one night of mind-blowing sex. And now we had absolutely nothing. He had said there was no emotional or financial price on what we gave each other, but what we were giving each other right now was nothing and I felt like I was paying a big price. I wasn't sorry or ashamed of having sex with Ranger, but if I'd known what the price would be - the loss of whatever companionship we had before - I might not have done it. I might have tried to refuse him. Like that would have been successful, either.
The whole thing with Abruzzi had accelerated the separation between us. Before we were still on speaking terms, if somewhat strained, and now if I wanted to talk to him I had to try and hunt him down. He'd said that if Morelli and I didn't work things out he'd be back in my bed – my bed, not my life - but that was before Abruzzi. Now Morelli and I were over and Ranger wasn't even speaking to me. This couldn't go on. I couldn't go on like this, wondering if there ever would be an us to Ranger and me. So tonight was going to be my final attempt to make Ranger understand what I wanted.
If it wasn't going to be, well, then . . . then . . .
I cleared my throat. Okay, fine, now I knew what the third piece of information I needed to get dressed was. I needed to look like the kind of woman a man couldn't possibly live without. Seemed like a tall order for a dress. I flipped through the choice in my closet and then stopped when I found it. I had planned to wear this dress last New Year's Eve but hadn't, and it was somewhat overkill for Rossini's. The little black velvet dress, long sleeved, form-fitting on top but with a swing skirt. Plunging wide square neckline, nearly bare shoulders, plenty of cleavage opportunity and short enough to show lots of leg. It was a stealth outfit, as it had an severe, riding-cut overcoat that completely hid the dress and made it look like a tailored suit. I smiled. Ranger carried guns concealed and I was carrying cleavage concealed. I, at least, didn't need a permit. I pulled out sheer black thigh-highs and low heels and went to finish my makeup and put my hair up, leaving just a few stray curls hanging down.
He arrived about a quarter of eight, and actually knocked on the door. That was not a good sign. When we were on better terms he was fond of breaking in, thrilling me and scaring me all the way to my toes. He was dressed in black, as always, long-sleeved turtleneck, sleeves pulled up on his arms, black denim pants that fit well without being tight, leather jacket - not his usual work outfit but not formal, either.
I opened the door a little further and he ran his eyes over me, top to bottom, and I got a small but warm smile. "Dressed to kill, Babe - a good look for you."
And I hadn't even taken the coat off yet. "You have no idea," I murmured.
That got me an uplifted eyebrow. He didn't enter my apartment, but instead gestured toward the hallway. I turned the lock on the door and closed it behind me, stepping into the hallway, toward the elevator. Ranger stayed where he was, arms folded. "Keys, Babe."
I rolled my eyes and pulled my keys out of my coat pocket. He took them from my hand, curling his fingers into my palm for just a moment before taking the keys. He turned and locked the deadbolt and then slipped the keys back into my pocket. We walked down the stairs together and got into his car.
We drove to Rossini's in silence, Ranger, as always, deep in his zone. It gave me the chance to watch him out of the corner of my eyes. The blank zone face, ever-watchful eyes. Usually he was a deep reserve of patience and calm, but tonight there seemed to be just the slightest edge to that calm. His usual luck held and we pulled into a parking space just outside the door to Rossini's, we were seated immediately and in a table in the corner. How does he always arrange this?
As we got to the table, I unbuttoned my coat. Ranger moved behind me to help me take the coat off, and I felt his fingers against my bare skin, the slightest brush of his fingertips from the nape of my neck, down and along my collar to the shoulder of my dress. I shivered and my nipples stood out against the clinging, draping material.
He hung my coat across the empty chair and gave me that same searching look again, his eyes warm, his lips curving into a smile. His eyes paused a moment on my nipples and his smile widened to his flashing, almost blinding, smile. I heard a gasp from a woman at the next table and the tinkling sound of broken glass as she dropped a wine glass from nerveless fingers. He didn't even seem to notice her.
He pulled my chair out for me, and I slid into it, knowing that the view into my cleavage was pretty much unobstructed from his vantage point. The look he gave me was hot and suggestive. I'd been eyed in bars before by men with only one thing on their mind, and this was not the same look. There was something more here, and whatever it was, I wanted to see it again.
He took his own seat, the waiter gave us the menus, I ordered a glass of white wine and Ranger surprised me by ordering a glass of red wine. "You're beautiful," he stated quietly, and then spoiled it by asking, in a slightly amused tone, "what point are you trying to make?"
"Why do you think I'm trying to make a point?" Let's put him on the defensive.
"Tell me about Morelli."
Oh, good, I thought, switch the conversation to something guaranteed to piss both of us off. "Why would I want to talk to you about Morelli?"
He took a sip of his water, glancing at me over the rim of the glass. "Seen you around town the last couple weeks - looking stressed, Babe. Figure it's got to be Morelli."
That stopped me cold. "What do you mean you've seen me? I haven't seen you in more than two months."
"Doesn't mean I haven't seen you."
"You've been watching me - following me?"
"I haven't been following you."
Oh, please, I thought, that one's a 50-footer. "OK, who do you have following me, then?"
He did the slight shoulder twitch thing again. A shrug. "It varies. We've been seen together too much already."
Another non-answer. "Why have you been watching me?"
"You haven't called me for help and some of your skips have been taking you into bad parts of town, Babe - just keeping an eye out."
"So you aren't interested in a relationship but you can't let go of me, either," I spoke slowly, trying to puzzle my way through.
Ranger made a slight movement, as though he would have said something. But he remained silent and continued to watch me, expressionless. He was leaning back against the booth seat, his head tipped slightly back. Something felt ... different about him. He looked good, as always, but, as I studied him I realized that there was something slightly off about him. The edge under the calm I had seen earlier. He looked tired, tense. His jaw was set, clenched shut, muscles tight.
This was getting us nowhere except further apart. Time to change tactics. I leaned across the table and spoke softly. "During the whole Ramos thing - I would try to lie awake at night, waiting for you. So I'd fall asleep thinking about you, and when you came in, I'd wake up and know you were there - I could feel it, everywhere in my body."
He stared at me and I thought I saw something change in his eyes, I thought I saw something stir deep inside. "Oh, Christ, Stephanie, don't do this. Just let it go." His voice was low.
He broke the eye contact. I'd just won a stare-down with Ranger. And I didn't even want to. "That's all you have to say? 'Let it go?' That's it?" I was angry and close to tears, my eyes burning.
"Babe. Get up now, Babe, and walk away." His voice was low, his face calm as always, but his tone was urgent. He was looking up past me, behind me.
"What? Ranger, we are having a discussion . . ."
He was reaching behind him for the Glock I knew he kept in a waistband holster. "This has nothing to do with a discussion. Get up now and walk out. Call Tank and tell him I've got trouble and trouble's name is Brooks. He'll know what to do." He was roughly shoving me up and out of my chair, towards the emergency exit door, moving to stand between me and the approaching men, his eyes locked on them. "Stephanie. Go. Now!"
"What's happening . ."
His voice was now a low snarl. "Just once listen to me and do what I tell you. Get the fuck out of here, now!"
I stumbled in the direction he pushed me. I could see his eyes scanning the room, taking in all of the innocent people in the dining room, and the men spreading out, walking towards him, blocking all of his escape routes. He would have known where all of the exits were before he ever sat down, and he knew he was trapped without getting into some sort of firefight. I reached the emergency exit and put one hand on it, and then realized I couldn't leave him here. I took a breath to steady myself and then, before I could turn around, felt the hard jab of a gun in my back through the thin material of my dress.
"Ms. Plum," a low voice spoke in my ear, "we wouldn't want to interrupt your dinner. Let's go back to your table and your dinner companion." I hesitated for a moment, and the voice continued. "I'll shoot you down where you stand if you don't cooperate."
I heard Ranger's low voice behind me, and turned to see him standing by the table, hands open and away from his body, three men encircling him, just out of reach of his hands. They were all armed and unconcerned about showing it in a public place. Ranger watched the man behind me, and an expression of cold fury crossed his face before it thinned back into his blank, zone face.
I felt myself being nudged back to the table. Ranger never took his eyes off of the man behind me. "Manoso," he began. "We have some business to conduct. I've been waiting a long time for this, a long time to bring you down, and finally, you've given me the tool to do it." He pushed me forward, toward the chair I had been sitting in. "Get your coat, Ms. Plum, we're all going for a ride."
"No," Ranger said. "let her go, Brooks, and then we can deal."
Brooks grabbed my arm and pulled me against his body. "Oh, no, Manoso, we've attempted to deal before. This time we deal on my terms, or I'll kill your girlfriend in front of you, just like you killed mine."